


goodnight n go

by metsuryuogi



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Big dorks, F/M, Rivals to Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26020276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metsuryuogi/pseuds/metsuryuogi
Summary: Anne's having a bad night and Gilbert comes to the rescue.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley, Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 21
Kudos: 200





	goodnight n go

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is so soon from the last fic I wrote, but I wanted to write more so I asked for requests on twitter. 
> 
> so this one-shot was requested by the lovely, amazing, Rachel (writergirl8) and she asked for the shirbert version of this old Dylan O'Brien interview where he says he went to kiss this girl he liked goodnight because she'd had a bad day at school! I thought it was super, super cute, so here it is!!
> 
> I adjusted it a littttllee bit to try to fit shirbert better, so I hope it came out well and everyone enjoys it!

There were many, many mistakes Anne has made that led her to where she is now: hunched over her desk at midnight, two energy drinks that tasted like sugary battery acid in her bloodstream, and three and a half pages left of an essay due first thing tomorrow morning. 

Perhaps she should have started this paper a week ago, when it was assigned, but doesn't procrastination provide such a motivating thrill? 

Maybe she should have spent her lunch break today in the library working on this paper, instead of sitting on the tiled floor of the girl's bathroom— disgusting floor, to be precise— with Tillie, Josie, Jane, and Diana as they comforted a sobbing Ruby in a locked stall. But what else are friends for if not a shoulder to cry on when a boy _(Moody, of all people)_ makes a stupid mistake? 

And she certainly wishes she could blame Gilbert Blythe, with his intellect and accidental smugness that annoyed her to no end when he unknowingly destroyed her entire thesis earlier that morning in English Lit, when he allowed her to read through his draft. Even though they were friends now, their old rivalry was still boiling within her as she read his eloquent argument which so clearly showed he understood the assignment better than she had. Gilbert had looked at her so expectantly when he asked for her critique and was obviously not pleased with her mumbled answer: _'yeah, it's great, Gilbert.'_

Anne groans as she reads over the last paragraph she wrote and realizes it makes absolutely no sense, electing to erase the entire thing rather than rework what could definitely _not_ be fixed. 

_(Honestly, was an essay on the classic novels of the twenties and how they reflected the attitude of the era, really that important in the grand scheme of things?)_

Defiantly, she opens her phone and scrolls through twitter lazily, switching over to her private account to let off some steam. 

_could use some hugs and kisses... it's been a horrible, horrible day and my night isn't even close to being over._

The tweet is simple, she doesn't even really think about it as she sends it out, and it only takes seconds for Diana to reply with a couple of kissy-face emojis and Ruby to reply with some pure memes decorated with hearts and sparkles. 

The next notification she gets perplexes her for only a mere second, before sending her into a minor fit of rage considering he's the reason she's torturing herself over this paper in the first place. 

_Gilbert liked your tweet_

Anne only let Gilbert follow her private account because she was sick of having to catch him up on things she was just going to tell him anyway, but it still made her heart pound a little bit every time she remembered he was reading some of her most ridiculous and personal thoughts. Well, she kept her particularly ridiculous and personal thoughts about his strikingly handsome face, bright eyes she wanted to dive into, and curls she so desperately wanted to ruffle in her actual physical diary, and for Diana's ears, of course. 

Her feelings for Gilbert were... odd to say the least. 

Sometimes she could admit to herself she liked him, whether it was in the depths of the night as she stared at the glow-in-the-dark planets he got for her birthday that hung from her ceiling, or whether it was under the bleachers as they both evaded gym class to read books and snack on the apples he'd bring from his father's orchard. 

The times where she couldn't admit she liked him were when their friends teased them in that obnoxious way with knowing smiles, and she would deny it vehemently, while he just looked away and blushed. Or the times when he looked down at her with this _look_ in his eyes that she couldn't quite explain. As much as she loved fantastical novels and daydreams, Anne didn't like things she couldn't explain in her own life; she liked things in her life to be tangible, to make sense, and she couldn't even explain Gilbert Blythe with her exceedingly great imagination. 

It seemed like hours went by from staring blankly at the Google Docs screen as if she could will the words into existence just by staring hard enough, before she hears the bush outside her window rustle loudly, a muffled ' _ow,'_ and a thump on the ground. 

She crosses the room to open the window so she can get a glance of this clumsy intruder, only to see Gilbert laying on the ground awkwardly, wearing his pajamas and clutching his shin in pain. 

"Gilbert!" she hisses, and his head whips around, side to side to try to find the source of the sound, "up here you moron!" 

His smile is blinding in the night as he finally looks up and catches a glimpse at her, "hey, come down." 

He says it like he knows she will. It's so clearly not a question but it's not a demand either, it's an expectation. He's already standing back up and shaking the leaves that are so enticingly stuck in his hair from his previous fall. 

"Marilla will kill me if she finds out I'm still awake." 

"That's a risk we have to take," he says seriously. 

" _We_?" she snorts, "I'll be grounded for life and she'll probably reward you, considering you can do no wrong in her eyes." 

"That's because I _can_ do no wrong," he laughs and motions his hand down, "are you coming or what?" 

Anne rolls her eyes and shuts her window carefully, tiptoeing down the stairs as to not wake Matthew and Marilla. She knows all the weak wooden boards and where to put her feet to avoid shrill creaking. 

It's taken her many years to perfect the art of sneaking around. 

Gilbert is standing at the same place below her window when she makes it outside, and even though his words before had come out confident and taunting, she can see his fists straining at his sides and pulling against his sweatpants as if he's nervous. 

When she crosses the garden, she is about to chastise him for toppling over Marilla's prized roses, but before she can even open her mouth, he closes the distance and presses his lips against her cheek.

It's soft, unsure, maybe even a little bit clumsy despite only lasting a second, but when he pulls back she can still feel the imprint of him against her skin. 

Gilbert's eyes are wide and shocked, as if surprised by his own actions, and his hand comes to grasp the nape of his neck. 

"You said you were having a bad night and you wanted some hugs and kisses, so I just thought..." he drifts, glancing at her face briefly to gauge her reaction, "I thought I would... do that." 

Anne wants to laugh, but she also wants to cry at the mere notion that he got out of bed at 12:30am to sneak out of his house, risking Bash's teasing wrath, and walk through the blistering winter air just to kiss the strange girl across the street on the cheek because she was having a bad night. Instinctively, her fingers pinch at her wrist, because she isn't quite sure if this is real or a dream, and that once the sharp pinch is registered in her mind she'll wake up with her head on her desk and drool dripping down her face. 

She can't explain Gilbert Blythe, but she also can't explain herself, because rather than laughing or crying or even slapping him across the face, she reaches on her toes and pulls him down to her level, kissing him square on the mouth. Anne wonders if Gilbert can feel the rush in every nerve ending that she can as he sets his hands on her waist, pulling her impossibly closer as he deepens the kiss. It isn't what she expected to come out of this night, but she supposes it wasn't what he had in mind either by the way he smiles against her lips. 

She pulls away quickly, wanting to get a good look at him, his eyes are still closed and his cheeks and nose are slightly flushed— by the cold, or by her, she isn't sure—and he leans forward to chase her lips once again. It pains her to stop him by lifting her hand to his cheek, but she does so once she regains the mental capacity to remember how many pages of her essay she still needs, and how her hours to write them are fleeting. 

"As much as I would love to continue this— and I really _, really_ do want to— if I'm going to beat you for valedictorian fair and square— and I _am_ going to beat you— I need to finish writing this English Lit paper, so you need to stop distracting me and I need to go back inside." 

He blinks a couple of times, still inches away from her face so she feels his breath tickle her cheek, and then laughs.

"Ah, you caught me," his arms up in defeat, "that was my master plan all along; to distract you long enough to guarantee you miss the deadline." 

"Even if you had an evil bone in your body, which you don't, you still wouldn't do that." 

"No," he nods with a grin, "I wouldn't." 

Her legs start walking back towards the door out of necessity because she's sure if she doesn't leave his airspace now she won't ever leave. 

"Thanks for the goodnight kiss," she says, hand reluctantly on the doorknob. 

"Anytime, Anne," he waves, then shoves his hands into his pocket and as he makes his way towards his house, she can swear that he's skipping. 

_Anytime,_ she repeats in her head like a mantra while she finishes her essay, unsure if the sudden kick of adrenaline is from the energy drinks or his kisses. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!! 
> 
> I got the prompt idea for Anne's essay from an essay I wrote this semester in American History lol, but I also did take AP English Lit once upon a time when I was in high school... so I know the struggle RIP. I have spent many a night with sugary battery acid in my bloodstream lmfao. 
> 
> twitter- gilbertjpeg  
> tumblr- natsujpg


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